Homecoming
by Shiggity Shwa
Summary: Vala and Daniel have an unconscious conversation in limbo after she hijacks his body. Set during 'Crusade'. Written for the prompt 'homecoming' over at StargateDrabbles on tumblr.


Homecoming

It's black and smoggy and hard to comprehend, but he knows she's there even though he can't see her. Feels the same static he felt when she would drag her arm across his tense shoulders and tell him to take her to dinner. Might be because of their braceleted connection—those damn bracelets—and after she disappeared through the gate, his worry for his own well-being overshadowed that she was gone.

Even though she never really was.

But she materializes, wearing the BDUs he had to accompany her to be fitted for—bracelet and all. Still doesn't now how she got definitely not army issued lower cut shirts or half the other clothes she did without being let off base.

Her eyes wander, until they land on him—like she too was fishing around in the dark for him—a quiet half-grin pulling on her lips. "Daniel?"

"Vala." Nods to her, cordial in greeting, but still highly suspicious. If it's possible in a removed consciousness state for her to slap another bracelet on him, she probably will.

"You're looking well."

He nods again. "So are you."

"Thank you." Even in the foggy space between them as they float—are they floating?—there's no mistaking her bright, full grin. "I definitely prefer them over the drab outfits I'm forced to wear here."

"So, you're in the Ori Galaxy then?"

"Yes."

"How's that?"

"Oh, as well as you'd expect: medievally misogynistic and hours of prostrations." She's twirling around him now, smoothing down the clothing on her body over her torso and hips until it hangs completely flat. "How have you been?"

"Overworked, searching for something to bring down the Ori. You know anything?"

Stops her skipping, the smile falling off her face. "Unfortunately, no."

"So, other than major religious and societal repression, do you have any other useful info?"

"I'm pregnant."

He stops fidgeting, and they both just stare at each other across the hazy expanse.

"You're—" he pauses, the corners of his lips drooping as he tries to comprehend the word. "Pregnant?"

"Yes."

"As in—pregnant pregnant?"

"No Daniel, the other kind." Rolls her eyes to cement her sarcastic quip.

"Well—umm—congratu—" she shakes her head at him "—Oh." Her face is pensive, trying to hide away other emotions, ones he hasn't seen in her before, regret and worry, two things she never did with him. It makes him anxious, so he attempts to alleviate her distress. "You—you don't seem too far along, there's a good chance that we could get to you before—"

"I'm almost eight months."

"Okay, you're going to have to work with me here."

And she laughs, as Vala does, diverting attention away from what needs it, subverting her negative emotions with the opposite. "This is just how you see me." Her hands ghost over her hips again, showcasing her trim figure. "I suppose should thank you for thinking so highly of me—" her hands float to her chest and he turns away just before she cups herself. "Too highly in some cases."

"Maybe—" announces it loudly over her prattling, while trying not to check over how she remembers him looking "—we could talk more about what matters."

"Why Daniel, how absolutely patriarchal of you." As he opens his mouth to deliver a rebuttal she holds her gait, and her hand silencing him. "This pregnancy does matter."

"Okay?".

"Because of who the father is."

"God, do I not want to—"

"It's no one."

"Just tell me so we can—"

"No, Daniel, the father literally does not exist."

"But then—"

"Yes, they've run one over on poor old me." She's closer now, warmer, and he can smell her—or maybe just the lingering scent of the galaxy she's in. Strong ale, spiced berries, fallen leaves. "Snuck one in when I wasn't corporeal."

"So the Ori—"

"Used me as their shipping container? Yes, Darling."

"For a baby?"

"For the Orici."

"Oh." Nods and then the words sink in, pop out from a stained page from the Book of Origin speaking of how the Orici will secure the word of Origin as intergalactic and all consuming, controlling armies and bringing about fiery annihilation. "Vala, listen to me."

He grabs her and she's corporeal.

She solidifies under his hands, the green BDU jacket melting away, leaving itchy, dingy sleeves of a medieval style dress, accentuated with a belt dipping below her large stomach. Her face is healthier, her color glowing, and she's absolutely beautiful. He strays a hand from her arm to the side of her cheek—to see if he can—and she feels cold, not warm, not rosy like she did when she would brush against him on base.

Her eyes are darker, shimmering, her hand slipping into his, and he remembers his warning. "You have to—"

Then it's light and airy and he's sitting at a table in one of the interrogation rooms. Cameras and lights directed at him, and three empty ice cream bowls scattered across the table. Teal'c, Sam, and Mitchell, are watching him, waiting, and he blinks his eyes quickly. "Guys, what's going on?"


End file.
